EVENT #7: THE SIGHT

[abraxasmods]

Event #7 - The Sight

go to the OOC event info and plotting post

---

The night before APRIL 18, your dreams are disrupted by a vivid image of the same eclipse that occurred last month. The black sun seems to be an endless void in the sky, growing ever darker - until it suddenly opens into an eye that stares straight at you.

When you wake up, much of your night seems a blur except for the vivid dream of that eye. Whether you find it unsettling or try to ignore it, the image is something you cannot get out of your mind. If you ask, you will discover that none of the locals of your faction saw another eclipse. Speak with your fellow Summoned, however, and you may learn that while there was no eclipse that formed over the world, you were not the only one who had this dream.

Of course, dreams don't need to mean anything. You can't feel or see any immediate effects, and nearly everyone around you is going about their day as usual. Maybe you should do the same.

The Awakening

It might happen that very morning or a day or two later. You could be discussing the dream with a fellow Summoned or perhaps you simply brush shoulders with them as you walk by. Whatever it is, as soon as you make brief physical contact, one of you is struck with a sharp pain in your temple that grows into a terrible headache. It's disorienting and painful as the world around you shifts to someplace you may or may not recognize. Like an old film reel, you watch the events of the past play out before you: the past of the other Summmoned. It might be something they would rather hide, a moment of failure or despair, or something they are immensely proud of and brings them great joy - or even a jumble of several images over the course of a person's life. But you see it as if it were real and right in front of you all the same. When you come to, you'll likely find yourself on the ground or bent over, possibly with one or more people around you to see if you're okay. It'll take you a bit to gather your bearings, and the subsequent pounding in your head could last from minutes to hours.

Or, maybe you aren't the one who receives the vision. Instead, as you watch, another Summoned might grasp their head and crumble in front of you. They may go silent or groan in pain. They'll be impossible to shake out of their stupor until it's over. If you ask what happened, they may be inclined to tell you the truth - that you, you were what happened to them.

Or, if your Arcana signs happen to line up in a specific way, you'll see each other in the shared memory itself. You may also find that for certain Summoned, you can help soothe the effects, calm their emotions, or help draw them out of the memory before it consumes them for too long. It's not entirely clear what determines which effect, but one thing is for certain - within each memory, every Summoned as they appear in the past seems to wear the mark of their Arcana somewhere on their person.

For some, they might experience this only once. For others, they might experience it multiple times: with the same person, with several other Summoned, or with a different memory each time. Over the next 7 days, you'll find the Summoned around you are all receiving a glimpse into each other's past, as if the Singularity has awoken an eye within each of you.

Flee for the safety of the Horizon if you want, but you'll find that in there, it's much the same. In fact, inside the Horizon, the other Summoned don't even need to be anywhere near you - just existing in the Horizon space itself together will be enough to possibly set off a headache-inducing vision.

The Factions

What has occurred between the Summoned will not go unnoticed within the factions. While it's difficult to say how faction officials have picked up what's happening, it'll be obvious they do know.

In THORNE, characters will be asked to remain in the castle walls until further notice. Characters will not be allowed to leave the castle grounds, not even to go into the surrounding city, and anyone who is already outside will be requested to not leave again as soon as they return. If asked, they will be told it's for their own safety, given the Singularity is behaving unpredictably and the Summoned have a unique connection to it. Soothing potions and healers are on hand to offer assistance, if anyone is particularly suffering from ill effects.

In the FREE CITIES, characters will find the army by the outposts show more activity than usual. A higher number of guards will patrol the streets throughout the event, particularly in areas frequented by the Summoned. Anyone who publicly and visibly experiences the effects of the memory share (pain, doubling over, etc.) will be offered assistance by the guards. They are generally there to help, but they are also there to maintain order and ensure anyone behaving erratically due to this incident is properly contained. This might include confinement for a day or two if anyone is especially posing a risk, but no one will be punished except in the most extreme cases, as the locals are aware this is not within the control of the Summoned.

In SOLVUNN, the locals will be watching what's happening with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity. Host families and neighbors will be on hand to help with charms meant to offer protection, as well as general care and assistance (soup, blankets, and so on) if your character seems to be especially under the weather or afflicted by the event. Towards the end of the event, more elders and mages will be out and about to check up on the Summoned to make sure they're doing okay. If asked, the mages will say they aren't sure what's going on, but that they are currently divining with the gods and hope to have a definitive answer soon in the upcoming days.

None of the factions appear to be doing much more than keep a watchful eye on the situation - but as the week comes to a close, officials will start making a decision as to what they want to do and how to handle the Summoned who have demonstrated this unforeseen connection to the Singularity.

Comments

[chosenfordarkness]

[ When the pang in his head subsides enough to open his eyes, his first instinct is to look around for Mat. His friend is easily found, though he sits with someone Anakin doesn't know. His attention turns to Mat again, and he's concerned with his condition. Certainly not the healthy young man he sleeps near every night.

The procession goes on down the street and his face scrunches in distaste at the spectacle. A man imprisoned for whatever reason and paraded down the street like an animal. His countenance is unnerving, but there's clearly something wrong.

That focus shifted toward the balcony is unnerving and Anakin has a sense of foreboding that he can't put reason behind. Something about that man and Mat doesn't sit right.. It's not as if he can interact with this memory or draw his friend's attention away, so he has to stand there like a ghost as it happens..

--

Around Mat, the scene changes as the ship come upon a loading dock, the darkened figure parking his speeder and walking hurriedly further into the hangar. Anakin and Obi-Wan jump down from the ship in a run and hurry after the man, lightsabers of green and blue igniting.

An old man stands with a commanding posture, his back facing the pair, though as he hears them enter, he turns to face them with an impassive expression. Obi-Wan stays where he stands while Anakin paces around to flank him, his body language angry and pulled taught like a bow.

"You're going to pay for all the Jedi you've killed today, Dooku." The words are hissed and Obi-Wan takes a few steps closer to his apprentice in an attempt to soothe his growing temper.

"We'll take him together - you go in slowly on the..." Before he can finish his sentence, Anakin is bolting toward their opponent.

"Now, I'm taking him now!"

"Anakin, no!"

Anakin doesn't get more than a few strides before Dooku raises his arm and an arc of blue lightning emerges from his hand and envelopes him and lifts him into the air. There's a scream of pain that echoes in the loading bay as Anakin is slammed into a wall and thrown into the corner, smoke curling from the front of his tunics. Wincing in pain, he stays curled in the corner while Obi-Wan raises his lightsaber, taking a few steps toward Dooku. The two circle each other, eyes never leaving one another.

"As you can see, my Jedi powers are far beyond yours." Dooku sends another arc of Force lightning at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan deflects the lightning with his lightsaber, his words calm and cool. "I don't think so."

He lifts his saber in the beginning of a dueling stance. Dooku smiles and does the same, saber igniting in a sickly red. Obi-Wan comes in fast, swinging at Dooku's head. Dooku parries the cut easily. As they fight, it quickly
becomes clear that the older man is the complete swordsman, elegant, graceful, classical - a master of the old style.

The old man smirks. "Master Kenobi, you disappoint me. Yoda holds you in such high esteem." He parries another cut and then thrusts. Obi-Wan steps back quickly, panting for breath. "Come, come, Master Kenobi. Put me out of my misery."

Obi-wan takes a deep breath, gets a fresh grip on his lightsaber and comes in again. For a moment, he drives
Dooku back. Then Dooku's superior skill starts to give him the upper hand again, and he forces Obi-Wan to retreat. Dooku's attack is relentless, trying to tire his younger opponent out to create an opening. Eventually he finds it, delivering burning lightsaber wounds to Obi-Wan's shoulder, then to his thigh. He stumbles back under the attack, trips and falls. The lightsaber disengages and goes skittering across the stone floor.

Count Dooku raises his lightsaber, intending to cut Obi-Wan down. Obi-Wan looks up at him helplessly, hand covering the burn wound on his thigh. In the corner, Anakin stirs with a groan, sitting up on his elbows trying to find the inner strength to get up. Seeing his Master in trouble gives him the strength he's looking for, using the Force to leap across the room and his lightsaber is there to meet Dooku's, protecting Obi-wan from the killing blow.

Anakin's expression is dangerous.

Dooku is surprised but amused. "That's brave of you, boy - but foolish. I would have thought you'd have learned your lesson."

"I'm a slow learner." Anakin charges at the old man. The force of his attack catches the Count slightly off balance. Anakin's lightsaber flashes. Dooku draws back.

"You have unusual powers, young Padawan. But not enough to save you this time."

"Don't bet on it!"

"--Anakin!" His master's voice draws his attention in time to see another lightsaber tossed in his direction, which he catches and ignites. Armed with two, he resumes his persuit of Dooku. He attacks, but Dooku parries and ripostes all of his attacks. It's clear that there's no contest as Anakin is driven back against the wall. A precision attack causes him to lose one of the lightsabers. They're at a stalemate for at least a dozen equal strikes, red and blue flashing and buzzing with each, both duelist's gazes never parting from the other.

Finally, in one flashy move, Dooku is able to get through Anakin's defenses and mercilessly brings the saber down, cutting clean through Anakin's arm at the elbow. He shouts in a mix of surprise and agony before Dooku uses the Force to throw him across the room to join Obi-Wan on the floor.

The memory starts to fade around the edges before it goes completely black. ]

[falcony]

Alina?

[ sam sits fairly gingerly in another chair, elbows against his knees as he presses his palms against his temple. just trying to work through the pain of it. his voice sounds...not interested, necessarily, but an acknowledgment. of the fact he too has shared one of alina's memories, and it isn't one he's likely to forget.

he sits for a few moments and drinks from his own cup, eases back into a place where it's not actively painful to look around, to think, to speak. it's then that ciri lifts her eyes to him - jaw straight, tone tense. tell me what you saw. part of sam almost tries to ease that tension, to say it doesn't matter, that he gets it, maybe to make a joke to cut through it.

but it's also ciri, and he recognizes that what it is he's seen, the whole process of memories he flashed through, the sheer amount that he doesn't know about her even with the signs he's seen himself. it's more serious than just shrugging off, so when she says that - tell me what you saw - sam nods. pulls his hands away from his head. ]

I saw... it was jumbled, but I did see you, younger, being taken away from a burning city. A man in a winged helmet. You screamed. [ a beat, and then sam continues. ] And then there was a camp, and a lot of fire, and your screams. It got...not jumbled, exactly, but there was a lot of running, a lot of blood. [ sam swallows back the image of the bodies being ripped apart, left aloft in the trees. he shakes his head. ] Geralt with uh...black eyes? I think. It was hard to make out.

[nadine_he_loves]

[Nadine understands. She'd visited both him and Jaskier after it had happened, and while Geralt hadn't talked that much about it...Jaskier had. Such a strange thing to think of - though she doesn't, as much as possible. She knows there are things in the future that it's best she never come to remember.]

I'm glad you got those, then. The ones about Ciri.

[Whatever else may have come to him as well, those memories were good ones. Necessary ones, all things considered. To not remember so much of your own child even when they're right here with you...she can't imagine. Nor can she imagine being someone's child and them not remembering so much.]

And I'm glad you two have each other, here.

[monomachy]

["A year" doesn't seem that long to her, but she knows that for most mortals, it is. She looks suitably shocked by this news, enough so that she almost forgets about her headache. Almost.]

That is a long while. [She sounds sympathetic; even though she's only been away from Themyscira for perhaps two months in total, it does feel much longer. She's also very interested in the fact that some Summoned have been in this world for so long. She's heard rumors implying as much, but hadn't yet met any who have been here for more than a few months.]

But you have found a place for yourself here? [That's something she's still trying to figure out. Diana always had a place, a purpose, on the island (and even after she left it). Here, she has none of that structure or surety. She's out of her wheelhouse, truth be told, a feeling she doesn't really like.]

[carmesi]

Wanda could truly care less if he spent an eternity growing accustomed to pain. He seeks the thrill of it for pleasure, but he could never truly experience pain, not the way she has—not the kind that revolts inside her, tempers into solid rock, an eternal weight inside her constantly dragging her down. Pain that she never volunteered for.

She deigns no answer for his question, perhaps also foolishly ignoring how unusual the Horizon works when compared to the real world.

"No, not 'little'," there is anger in her eyes—a crisp kind of glacial cold to her voice. A crown forms atop her head of the same carmine color of her magic. "Scarlet Witch."

Her arms move, her hands a drawing board for the magic that latches from her twitching fingers, bursts of chaos thrown at Goro, an attempt to splinter him off exactly like how she had attempted with Thanos in the memory.

[leitstern]

Nonsense! It was anything but.

[The noise of the dining hall aggravates his nerves - nowhere near to the extent of his friend, for lack of a better word? His fingers pinch his nose and he exhales furiously. This young man at least has the right idea in getting away from the gossiping crowd. He leans slightly in his direction and considers his next move. Gratitude? Nothing quite so intimate - but a recognition of their meeting seems appropriate.

He holds out his hand in acknowledgement.]

Still, I would welcome your discretion.

[fourarmedandangerous]

Goro's opponent names herself, a title of power no doubt, one meant to instil fear, and awe. A name of power, and just like that, a symbol of that power appears upon her brow.

A crown. How utterly fitting. Her kind always seeks to rule, in the end.

The blasts strike him full on, and oh yes, there is pain, lancing across his body, each strike triggering a rush of adrenaline. Perhaps she could unmake him...if this were not the Horizon. And these binds will not hold him here.

Straining forward even as he is struck by the scarlet energy, Goro snarls in fury, even as he chokes against the constriction around his neck. A band holding his upper arm stretches as he reaches forward, and breaks, the magic dissipating as it no longer has anything to hold onto. From there, it's easier, each arm wrenching away, each step loosening her hold. Finally he can simply rip away the only remaining shackle, pulling it from his neck and tossing it aside.

In great, bounding strides, Goro seeks to close the distance, to strike Wanda.

This! This is what he lives for. Life itself distilled down to its purest, most basic substance. No more words, just one will against another. To live is to kill, and it's in these moments that Goro never feels more alive.

[techmaturgy]

Yes.

[No easy way to say that, though Viktor has resolved not to pry or ask for more information than any one person is willing to give. He has questions, of course, about these so-called Avengers, and what they were meant to do and how she fit in with them, but he'll let her volunteer the information. They're both vulnerable, and despite his curiosity, he doesn't want to overstep.

Still, she's asking him for clarification, and he owes it to her to be honest. Mostly, the whole situation makes him feel immeasurably sad--he can only imagine how powerless she felt in that moment, even after doing everything she could to save lives.]

I...understand that you did what you could. [He has no idea what he'd do, in a situation like that. No idea what he'd do with that kind of power.] It wasn't your fault.

[hextechhead]

Jayce listens to his explanation without pushing, he has a tendency to overshare (obviously) so he tends to ask a lot of questions of people, too curious by half. He is pretty good at backing off when he needs to, it's just not his automatic response to things. "That's terrible, I'm sorry. I can't imagine what losing something so precious would be like." Well, he does in terms of people, but not in terms of skills. It would be like losing his mind, for him, and that would be very alarming. He knows that for some people magic is a part of them that closely.

"Well, that sounds like a better way of approaching magic than people who want to bend it aggressively to their will, you know? More respectful." Jayce doesn't know how a relationship with magic could be that type of give and take, but it sounds nice. He also is a very polite person so he gets it.

He laughs quietly. "They're both exhilarating and exhausting, in my experience." Hearing people cheer? Amazing. Feeling all eyes on him? Incredible. Once it's all over? Exhausting. "Hold on let me ... make this more comfortable." Jayce realizes that it's not only his memories they're in, but it's also his domain they're in, Kell must have been wandering. It could go either way around here. He focuses and suddenly they're at the bottom of a tower with what looks like fake blimps in the air.

Jayce gestures for him to follow and he and Viktor's space is tall rather than wide, a lift bringing them up. "Viktor and I share our Horizon, we've always shared a lab so it made sense." He gets them off on the second floor and into the lab in question. It's a wide space with two very clear workspaces, Jayce's desk covered with tools, gears, and sketches, and Viktor's more orderly and clear when he's not in there. He's more private at times, Jayce just leaves everything out, he's a little on the messy side. There is a chalkboard with a lot of writing and numbers on it.

Jayce focuses and on his desk appears the polished arcane crystals that he perfected back home. They're beautiful, blue, smooth, and even here there is a pull of power to them, an energy humming. "This is the only access to magic I have back home, these are the arcane crystals I used to create Hextech with."

[gynvael]

[ A long moment, where he studies her. His gaze is steady; not meant to unnerve, but not especially caring if it does, either. There is something about her that seems to have struck a cord with him. Not in the sense that he feels as she does. Not quite. It's more as if, she is telling him something he's given up believing in a long time ago, something that perhaps specifically, deep down, he wishes he had not. That every so often, he wonders if it's one more thing stolen from him by the world.

But he and wishes have never been on good terms. So there's little point in them. It's not about him, anyway. These days, he thinks—there are still things he can give Ciri, if not himself. ]

If the choice is yours, [ he says eventually, ] then that's all that matters. Though if I were you, I'd have another drink before I worry about saving men.

[ You know. The general answer to most things. Temporarily, at least. ]

[gynvael]

[ A frown, directed in Jaskier's direction. (He's lost count of all the time Jaskier has splashed him while he's bathing. Or dumped a bucket over his head. ) ]

Fuck off. [ He's only grouching. Somehow, it's the warmth in Jaskier's voice that makes him want to especially grouch, in that way where be obviously doesn't mean it. He rinses the soap and dirt out of his hair. It's all accomplished with thoughtless efficiency. Sometimes he's in the mood to lounge and relax in a bath. Tonight's not quite one of those nights. He appreciates Jaskier's company. He does. It's just been—

A lot.

Even so, a minute or two, and: ] Bed's empty tonight.

[carmesi]

[she offers a bemused exhale, something of a chuckle at his words. it's not in his detriment, but rather a mocking reaction to her own pity, to the shame and guilt that still hangs over her. it's not viktor's fault, though—he does not have the whole context.]

I can count the people who think the way you do in one hand.

[wanda presses her lips into a thin line, thoughtful for a moment.

(and he is right to think that he should let her volunteer as much information as she wants, and let that satiate his curiosity.)]

People fear me. This power— in the hands of someone like me. I grew up hating those I worked for. They bombed my home, destroyed my childhood, killed my parents. [she swallows and shakes her head.] I wanted to blend in like the rest. I changed the way I spoke and I dressed like them, but... No one would let me forget I was from Sokovia, and that I was dangerous.

[she looks at him.]

You can ask Sam about the Sokovia Accords. He'll deny it, but they were created because of me. People like me needed to be controlled, kept in a leash, no matter how broken they are. [she doesn't think much of herself in this instance, but of bucky. steve chose his side for a reason, and it wasn't just because they were best friends.] At least we all get a fresh start here, huh.

[carmesi]

She grew too confident after having bound him.

Goro is quick, but he has strides to take and she just needs to swing her arms in opposite directions to create a shield in front of herself, pulsing with chaotic energy, to hold off his blows. She isn't the young girl recently plucked from Sokovia anymore; her powers have consolidated themselves since, and the knowledge found in the binding of the Darkhold ricochets still in her mind even if it's been months since she last laid her eyes on the actual copy of it.

She is no longer afraid—exactly what could touch her?

Her movements are fluid, removing the shield when his strike pauses, thinking she's got the timing right enough to send a burst of magic to sweep him right off his feet, throw him on his back.

It would be a shame if her confidence turned into arrogance, wouldn't it?

[meiren]

[ He gets a faint snort in return, friendly but derisive. Charming is not a description Zhou Zishu has gotten often, for all that he can fake it well enough if needed. It hadn't been his preferred method, but it was useful.

And one side of his mouth ticks up slightly at the question. ]

Former profession.

[ It's easier to say as their shifting surroundings catch his attention again, especially when they begin to solidify into the all-too-familiar streets of the imperial city. The smile slides off his face in exchange for a more piercing look. This could be any one of ten years of memories, some of them more palatable than others. Not easy to immediately tell which.

Especially since, despite it obviously being his own memory, Zhou Zishu himself is nowhere to be seen in it. ]

[funbreaker]

[ Wanda doesn't listen to him, and Thancred can't help but smile through the weariness. She's headstrong in her own way and he suspects he's only seen the tip of that iceberg. Based on what he'd seen in that memory — even if he'd had very little context — he'd been able to see the steel in her eyes.

And the grief.

She reaches for his hands, grips them tight, and it somehow does seem to clear his head. It's a bit odd, with her standing and him sitting, but she also doesn't seem to want to let go. He releases a slow breath and tightens his fingers around her hands. ]

I got lucky. [ He doesn't outright say it, but there are many other memories they could have witnessed which would not have been nearly so pleasant. ] I must confess, I couldn't quite follow all that happened with yours.

[ He glances up then to look directly at her, his bangs shifting back toward his temples. ] But you don't have to explain. I suspect it showed it to us because your sons were there.

[ He's noticed a trend with these memories, how often they will mirror each other in some way. Ryne, Billy, and Tommy had been the common denominator here. ]

[funbreaker]

It is.

[ There's a certain respect that enters Thancred's tone when he speaks of Master Louisoix, even now. Despite all of the mythos around the man, he'd been a gentle, kind, and humble soul. It would have had to be so, for the events that are about to unfold before them to have done so in this way.

At Himeka's next comment, he glances over and nods, difficult as it is to avert his gaze from a moment that had so profoundly affected his life. ]

And you would be right.

[ A beat later, a young version of Thancred appears from the shadows behind boxes filled with fishing supplies. He creeps up after Louisoix, one small hand reaching out to take the man's coinpurse. Thancred can even remember what he'd been thinking at the time — that the man was old enough that his senses might fail him, but that he looked well-dressed, and therefore was likely wealthy.

In a moment that the young boy never could have predicted, Louisoix spins around and forces him to the ground with a burst of magick, which then surges around to bind his limbs.

Thancred shakes his head slowly, halfway to laughing. ] It's a bit embarrassing to watch now.

[impressionism]

Hennessy's never felt safe a day in her adult life -- nor most of her childhood, for that matter -- but after the past few days she's starting to miss the predictability of people merely wanting to kill her. Seeing other people's garbage and enduring them seeing hers is way, way too much unwanted bonding.

At least Kylo's the mind-reader she knows.

"I don't need to understand it to know it sucks."

Eloquent as always. But since she believes Kylo's got a better chance at figuring out what's going on than anyone else she's talked to recently, she'll elaborate.

"It's what'll happen with the lines between dreaming and reality blurred, the way Ronan wants it back home. When you're dreaming you can't keep your thoughts from each other -- or your memories, if you wander into one of them. It'd be this all the damn time."

The pained look on her face makes it incredibly clear what she thinks of that.

[impressionism]

"You had a knife in your chest and were gasping like a dying fish. Guess whatever the guy was chanting worked before you bled out, or you just don't die like other people."

Or there's more than one of him. Always a possibility, though that memory had seemed awfully first-person. She's curious, but ultimately unfazed. Nine girls with her face -- nine girls who began their lives as her -- had died in varyingly awful ways. This one guy surviving his own death wasn't that weird, all things considered.

Still, she's looking at him like she's trying to find a slightly less offensive way to ask him if he's a zombie and coming up with nothing.

[cointosser]

[Such a way with words. Jaskier waits patiently, only because he has a show to enjoy -- the stretch and flow of muscles, scars, skin. Gradually relaxing as the hot water ebbs away the pain in his head. Or perhaps it's going away on its own.

In some ways, it could be any other night where Geralt is at home.

With the glow of that memory, however, it's different.

Jaskier's eyes level, heat prickling across him. In some ways, yes. Geralt has his way with words.] Is it, now? [Well. He knows that, seeing as it's his bed. Jaskier leans over, moves between Geralt's legs, kissing him.] Not anymore, then.

[If Geralt says it won't happen a second time, he trusts him. If he can hold onto that memory, the feeling of it, then he will.]

[fourarmedandangerous]

Goro throws himself against the shield, hammering it with blows. This is stronger. Brute force won't be enough, not without creating an opening for her. But an opening is precisely what Goro wants her to make.

The window in his strikes is deliberately created, bait for Wanda to try and take advantage of. As the shield comes down, as Goro knew it would, he's primed. A foot rises, and slams down upon the ground, hard, cracking the crater floor with it's impact. Enough to send Wanda off-balance, knock her spell-weaving off the proper pattern. And that's when Goro strikes hard across her upper body with a sweeping blow of his upper arm.

"Overconfidence. It has always been the weakness of your kind." Goro leers. "You sorcerers think you amass so much power it makes you untouchable...it never occurs to you how fragile that power really is. Until I have my hand around your throat."

His lower fists slam against his chest. "Get up! We haven't even started yet!" Sorcerer or not, this is the first real challenge, the first true battle he's had since coming to this world. He fought Cloud in a Cadens alleyway once, for money, and the SOLDIER disappointed Goro with how quickly he was overcome. He's seen what Wanda can do, and here, there's no reason to hold back, to not indulge every repressed violent whim he's had to keep restrained. Fighting unthinking beasts in the desert, endlessly training...no. No, it's not enough. He needs the force of destruction that cowed the Mad Titan.

Goro steps forward, teeth bared. "Is this all the mighty "Scarlet Witch" can bring to bear?" He jeers, the title dripping with mockery. "Then it was not Thanos that killed your beloved! It was your own WEAKNESS!"

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri doesn't know what singular god he's talking about, but it's clearly something from his own world, and unimportant. What sticks with her is that he has seen drawings of the Wild Hunt in his sphere, heard legend of them. As being who can cross between places and have been following her to impossible lengths, it should not be so surprising that they've been recorded in worlds apart from the Continent. No, it's not really surprising--

But it still makes her shudder a little and take another drink. ]

They're a legend. A bad omen.

[ She hesitates, but it's not like giving the generic name will do much either way, and she's curious now if he's heard it. ]

The Wild Hunt, some people called them.

Seems some concepts cross the boundaries between worlds. Like certain monsters. And vampires.

[wiedzminka]

[ Well. That could be... just about anything. Ciri eyes Julie, a bit uncertain, but she doesn't exactly want to call her friend a liar. And her head fucking hurts like her brain is trying to vibrate out of her ears.

She swallows, one hand pressed to her temple, and tries to catch Julie's gaze with watery eyes. ]

You seemed... quite shaken. It frightened you?

[wiedzminka]

Ciri puts her sword away. Her eyes are on Gideon, flicking from her hand to her face, from the blood to her expression.

"How bad?"

She's got supplies, if Gideon doesn't. Problem is, Ciri's trying her damnedest not to touch anyone right now.

[wiedzminka]

If you've got your own, why'd you ask about mine?

[ Ciri asks, more amused than annoyed, as she observes her new companion trying to get a read on her. ]

Biotick. Never heard that term before. Is that what your magic is called?

[frontlinetitties]

Her hand dips back down toward the wound, fingertips pressing through torn cloth to seek out bloody edges. Blood that's still flowing. Not alarmingly fast, she strongly doubts it hit anything vital, but there's still enough of it to cause concern.

"Any minor scrapes and injuries I get usually close up right away," she says, as the sting of it begins to assert itself into her consciousness, pain receptors glittering back into life as the white heat of adrenaline fades out into something more subtle. "So I'd say maybe not dire, but not good."

And then, for good measure, as she presses down on the wound with the flat of her palm, like that'll stop the bleeding, "well, fuck."